


Death of a Bachelor

by daisyisawriter91



Series: Panic! At the Disco [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Actors, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Diary/Journal, Domestic Fluff, Drinking, Drunkenness, Five Stages of Grief, Grief/Mourning, Heaven, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Married Life, Memories, New Year's Eve, New York City, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Character Death, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-05-05 23:52:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14629653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisyisawriter91/pseuds/daisyisawriter91
Summary: Based on the Panic! at the Disco album "Death of a Bachelor", within are multiple one-shots surrounding each song.





	1. Golden Days

Henry was stacking crates. Because of course he was. Of all the things befitting a Man of Letters, stacking dusty crates on top of each other mindlessly was not among them. He’d already organized them in three different ways, and was about to take a rag to the boxes out of sheer boredom.  
The storeroom in the Men of Letters bunker had been only lightly used since the fifties. But many of the boxes were no longer dusty, due to the movement. Henry had permanent dust in his lungs because of this project.  
He had only been in 2016 for three weeks, so he supposed he understood why Sam and Dean had forbid him from hunting. But he wasn’t entirely useless, nor had he come from the Stone Age.  
It was a surprise to be yanked out of Heaven by a woman in a black dress. But he got to aid his last living relatives, and that was as far as his care went. He was aching to know, but Sam and Dean were his priorities.  
Henry’s aching limbs finally gave out. He had been doing this for three hours.  
A cardboard box tumbled to the ground, pictures and documents and a few journals spilling out onto the floor. Henry let out a tremendous groan of annoyance, and suddenly wished one of his grandsons was home. They would at least help him pick this up.  
Henry, finally giving up on standing, sunk to the floor. The documents were too intriguing to let go of, so he knew he’d spend the next hour looking through them.  
He picked up a green journal first, flipping to the first page.  
_Property of B. Kane._  
It nearly made him drop the journal. B. Kane. It was a name Henry hadn’t heard in years, since…since the fifties. The human alias of the angel, Balthazar.  
Henry stroked the scrawling signature, the signature ring over the capital letters. Only Henry knew that it was a halo. Balthazar’s cheeky little hint to his true identity. Henry always found it amusing, and would often try to think of his own flair to his name. He never came up with anything as good, no matter how hard he tried.  
Henry had loved Balthazar, with his entire heart. But one day, he said the strangest goodbye. He never came back to the fifties, and Henry had been forced to lead a life without him. He met a nice girl that he never loved as he should’ve, had a son that he loved exactly as he should’ve, and then…was vaulted forward to 2013, and killed by a knight of Hell.  
Hands trembling, Henry turned to the first page. It was dated to 1952. A day Henry and Balthazar spent together.  
_“I have never known a bliss as profound as when I am in this time, with my love. Even as he sleeps, he brings me so much joy. More than I ever believed an angel such as I could attain._  
I should never like to leave him.”  
And yet, he did.  
Henry turned the page, to the very next day. He remembered, he spent the next day in 1952 with Balthazar. But the page was dated to 2011. Probably the next day for Balthazar.  
_“A wise man once said, ‘parting is such sweet sorrow’. There is nothing sweet about parting, it’s all sorrow. Leaving Henry, even if for only a day, is the worst thing I can do._  
I don’t care for this year. Sam and Dean Winchester, while entertaining and the descendants of my beloved, can be quite annoying. Rudely yanking me into a mad mission to kill a man named Bobby Singer. I couldn’t care less of the outcome. I’d just very much like to go back home. To my Henry.  
I wonder what happens in Henry’s life to allow him to have grandsons. It’s often a thought I entertain, why he would ever have his son to enact the plan. He’ll find a nice girl. Leave me behind.  
Perhaps that’s for the better. But, for now…I’ll enjoy my time with him.”  
Henry was starting to get a horrible picture of what had happened to his beloved Balthazar. He skipped ahead an amount of pages, not wanting to understand this train of thought.  
It was dated to 2012, the year before Henry’s death. It was the longest entry Henry had yet to see.  
_“My father is a cruel and torturous man. He orchestrated this entire thing. Of course he did, why should I be surprised?_  
He orchestrated my love of Henry. He orchestrated our meeting, and everything afterwards. He built in a failsafe to get me out of the picture, driving Henry into the arms of a nice woman so that his divine apocalypse could be enacted.  
But nothing had been planned afterwards. He didn’t anticipate me surviving. I got to see him, even after the apocalypse failed. Of course, I had to be careful. I had no idea what would happen if I interfered with the births of Sam and Dean.  
And now, Henry himself is what is going to keep me from him. He has changed me, beyond belief. And Castiel has gone too far.  
I have to say goodbye to my beloved, for the final time, and not in the way I’d hoped. I’m going to save the world. Even when it will end my life to do so.”  
Henry couldn’t read another word. It was too difficult.  
He dropped the journal onto the floor and covered his mouth, restraining tears. Balthazar hadn’t abandoned him. He’d sacrificed himself. For the world. And, from the sounds of it, Sam and Dean.  
Henry took a few calming breaths, so that he wouldn’t start sobbing. But the pain was still fresh in his mind. He’d be feeling it for a long time.

 

It was the next day, and Sam and Dean were back from their hunt. They were tired, and there was blood on their clothes. Clearly, neither of them cared. And Henry didn’t particularly mind, either.  
He’d spent the past twelve hours searching through the boxes for any traces of Balthazar. In the single box he’d found photos, journals, love letters…a collection of their time together. He had to know what else had been recorded.  
Sam, Dean, and Henry were all in the library. Sam and Dean both had beers, freshly opened. Henry had passed on the offer. He didn’t feel like putting anything onto his roiling stomach.  
The brothers were talking, animatedly, about some sort of movie Henry had yet to view. But their conversation was interrupted by a knock at the Bunker door. An unorthodox occurrence, to be certain.  
Dean slowly stood up, walking up towards the door. Cocking his gun, he looked down at Sam and Henry, gave them a nod, and opened the door. Henry couldn’t quite see who was standing on the other side. But, clearly, this person was important, as Dean dropped his gun in surprise.  
“What the hell are you doing here?” Dean breathed, shocked.  
“I can tell you’re _so_ happy to see me.”  
There was no way. It just wasn’t possible. How could it be?  
Henry stood up, chair clattering to the floor, startling Sam. He strode up the stairs, not ready to look, not yet, and pushed Dean aside. Dean stumbled into the railing from the force, but Henry didn’t care, because it, evidently, _was_ possible.  
Balthazar stood at the door.  
“Balthazar?” Henry breathed, barely daring to believe it.  
“Henry. I didn’t…I didn’t…” Balthazar stammered. Henry vaulted forward and embraced him, holding him tight, afraid to let go. Balthazar hugged him back, just as fiercely. “How are you here?”  
“How are _you_?” Henry countered. “I thought you were dead.”  
“I was. Now I’m not. I’m human, though.” Balthazar replied.  
“I don’t care. You’re here, my love.”  
Henry savored the moment. He didn’t care about his grandsons’ surprised exclamations, he didn’t care about _how_ Balthazar was back, nor that he was a human. He just cared that Balthazar was _here_ , in Henry’s arms. Where he was supposed to be.


	2. Hallelujah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry is on a crusade to find Balthazar. But it may just be fruitless.

Even back in his day, Henry had never really been a religious man. To a skeptic, no religion ever rang true. He knew demons existed, but there were many mysteries surrounding them that the Men of Letters at the time couldn’t explain it.  
But Henry had fallen in love with an angel. He’d been to Heaven. He’d met God. A convoluted process of meeting your lover’s parents, no?  
When Henry was yanked out of Heaven by God’s sister, he’d searched desperately for his angel. For Balthazar. But there seemed to be no trace of him on Earth. Granted, he hadn’t asked his grandsons yet, which probably would’ve helped in the modern era.  
And that was exactly what he was doing.  
Sam and Dean were in the bunker’s library, Dean polishing his gun, Sam buried in a book. Never was there a more accurate depiction of them as Henry knew them. They both looked up when Henry entered.  
“Sam, Dean. Do you think you could help me with something?” Henry asked, sitting in front of them. Sam sat down his book, face inviting.  
“Sure. What’s up?” He responded.  
“I’m looking for someone, and I was hoping you could help me find him.” Henry requested.  
“Who’s the guy? Someone from the Men of Letters?” Dean asked.  
“No. An angel.” Henry was met with the exact reaction he anticipated. Stiffening. “Trust me, this one isn’t the ones you’re used to.”  
The tension eased from at least Sam, just a bit.  
“Okay. Do you know this angel’s name?” Sam prompted. Henry couldn’t resist a smile at the idea. His grandsons were going to help him find the man - the angel - he loved.  
“Yes, I do. His name is Balthazar.” Henry answered. Sam’s face fell, instantly, and Dean’s scowl deepened.  
“How do you know Balthazar?” Dean asked. Henry scratched the back of his neck, bashfully.  
“I won’t lie to you, boys. I was… _am_ in love with him.” Henry confessed.  
An eerie silence passed over the room as both of his grandsons absorbed the information. Sam cleared his throat, awkwardly.  
“Henry, I don’t know how to say this…” Sam started. Dean easily cut him off.  
“Balthazar is dead. Has been for about five years.” Dean broke the news, bluntly.  
Everything went deadly silent. Even Henry’s heart didn’t dare to beat in light of the news. It didn’t make any sense, how could something like that happen? Such a thing was impossible, as far as Henry knew. Not angels dying, no, he knew that was possible. Balthazar dying.  
It was like someone had shot a cannonball into his chest. He could barely breathe, and he couldn’t process it. He felt hollow, and cold. He’d been lost enough in the 21st century. Now this?  
“If it makes you feel any better, he did it to help save the world.” Sam piped up. Henry didn’t want to hear it.  
“Frankly, Sam, no, it doesn’t make me feel any better. I just learned that the person I loved more than anything has been dead for five years. He wasn’t even brought back with me. I suppose the holy twins couldn’t have been bothered to make another exception.” Henry stood up from his chair and stormed up the stairs to the bunker.  
“Henry!” Dean called after him. Henry ignored him.  
He left the bunker, pulling on his coat as he left. He wasn’t sure what he’d do when he was out. He wasn’t sure of anything, anymore.  
It was 2016, Henry was a grandfather, and he was more alone than he’d ever been.

 

Saturday night worship had always been strange to Henry. Moving past the idea of religion in general, Sunday was supposed to be _the_ day. But that didn’t matter much to him.  
He could still feel the burn of whiskey down his throat. As it turned out, he wanted to drink when he was mourning. Drink _a lot_. He wasn’t fully aware of what was happening, but he knew he wanted to go to a church. So there he was, in a church.   
Henry walked down the aisle and stopped in the middle of it, still clutching a bottle of…rum? He’d forgotten what it was. His drunken shamble drew the eyes of the entire parish.  
A glass window depicting Jesus Christ looked down at him, mocking him with His gentle gaze.  
“What makes your damn god so good?” Henry asked, staring the priest down. He realized he looked like a wreck, disheveled, bruised, and covered in spilled alcohol. But he didn’t care. He needed answers.   
“The Lord created all of us, and the divine plan. He is almighty and powerful.” The priest answered, patiently.  
“Really? Than why didn’t he bring back one angel? If he brought me back, why didn’t he bring back _my_ angel?” Henry demanded.  
“You lost someone. I’m sorry, my son. But they are with the Lord, now. They are safe in His paradise.”  
“Bullshit!” Henry yelled, making the parishioners gasp and flinch. “Your cruel, capricious god brought me back from the dead, only to find out that the love of my life wasn’t waiting for me. I mean, really, what’s the point? If the asshole loved His creations so much, why would he take away the brightest one?” Henry looked up to the sky. “That’s right, you almighty jackass! Are you listening to me?! That’s right, of course you’re not, because you _never are_! Did you hear what I said, Chuck Almighty?! Why didn’t you bring him back with me?!” Henry shouted.  
His sober mind would never let him do this. But without inhibitions, he became this. He knew he’d be ashamed of himself in the morning. But at the moment, he didn’t give a damn.  
“I understand that grieving can be difficult, but cursing the Lord in such a foul way won’t help you. Find love in the Lord.” The priest insisted.  
“Put a sock in it.” Henry said. “It won’t help because he’s an egotistical monster that took my angel away from me. For no damn reason.” Henry took a swig of his unknown liquor, turned on his heel to the best of his ability, “All you sinners, stand up! Praise the Lord! Like you’ve done all your life! Look at all the good it’s done! Look at all the good it’s done me!”  
With that, Henry walked out of the church.

It was three in the morning, and Henry had reached a moment of clarity. Most of the liquor had been discarded in the woods on the way back to the bunker, and he was finally sobering up.  
He sat against a tree trunk, head in his hands. His hair was sweaty and curling, slightly, as it tended to do. He’d lost his tie somewhere, and he may or may not have been missing a sock, he couldn’t tell. His feet were numb from the cold.  
Henry leaned his head against the trunk of the tree and put his hands together.  
“Chuck…God…however you’d like to be called…I’m sorry for what I said. But please…please bring him back…he didn’t deserve to die. Balthazar was _good_. He wasn’t a great angel, sure, but he was a good man. I know it. I _saw_ it. Just bring him back.” Henry pleaded. “I’ll never ask for anything else, I don’t even want anything else. I just want my heart back.”  
As usual, there was no reply. The only sound was Henry’s breathing, and the crunching of the frozen earth as he shifted in his place. But Henry wasn’t ready to give up, yet.  
“Balthazar? Are you out there? Hey, it’s me. I haven’t heard your voice in so long. I don’t even care what voice you’re using, I just know that I’ll know it. Because it’s _you_. Just come back to me, please. I miss you so much, too much to even put into words. Other people live in it, but you’re my heart. Just come back, Balthazar. Come home.” Henry murmured. Tears were beginning to form.  
Once again, he was left alone.  
Henry wiped his tears, pushed himself off the tree, and stood. He dusted the frost off his pants and began stumbling the rest of the way to the bunker. He wondered, idly, if Sam and Dean were worried.

 

Dawn had broken three hours ago, and Henry was still bent over a pile of books. It had been two days since his drunken escapades, and he hadn’t fully recovered. It was from the lack of sleep. And food. And sunlight. Really everything basic to human necessities.  
It was because he was neck-deep in research, all to answer one question. Where do angels go when they die?  
He could feel Sam and Dean staring at him, on and off, throughout the day. They were worried about him. And if he was being honest, he’d be worried about him, too.  
His vision was blurring. He didn’t want to stop, not for a single minute. He knew the second he did, he wouldn’t start again. Once he laid down to sleep, it wasn’t likely he’d move from his bed for a long while.   
But he couldn’t carry on research if he couldn’t even see it anymore. Even in the state he knew he was in, he realized this. So, Henry stood up, and turned to his grandsons, who were watching him like hawks.  
“If I don’t get up in twelve hours, come get me.” He ordered. They weren’t about to argue with the orders, judging by their expressions.  
Henry trudged to his bedroom, a sudden weariness settling in his bones. The very same weariness he’d been pushing off for hours. It made his steps slow and lumbering, but at least he was making progress.  
Finally, Henry entered his bedroom. He barely remembered to shut the door after him, or take off his shoes. But, thankfully, he remembered both.  
He crawled under the covers, curling as closely into a ball as he could, and closing his eyes. His last cognizant thought was the wish for a kind dream of Balthazar.  
He knew, in time, he’d manage. He’d get better, and be able to function as a normal person once more. But for the time being…he couldn’t imagine a reality worse.  
Sleep took Henry as her own.

 

Somewhere in the Empty, Henry’s words resonated, loud and clear, breaking the utter, oppressive silence that had previously reigned. And a pair of eyes flew open, finally awake once more, absorbing the darkness.  
“Where the bloody hell am I?”


	3. Victorious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Balthazar isn't ashamed of admitting that he likes to win. And he's won so much, he can hardly believe it.

Balthazar wasn’t ashamed of admitting that he liked to win. He did it so often, but it was very rare that he didn’t feel a rush from doing so. He saw what he had, and he appreciated it. Even he wasn’t arrogant enough to look a gift horse in the mouth.  
In every area he won, he got comments. Envious, some. Others, curious. _How did he do it?_ He had no idea. But he had a successful career as an actor, a lavish apartment in Los Angeles, and, most importantly, a husband that was way out of his league.  
The rest didn’t matter so much to him. He’d gladly become a no-name accountant in middle-of-nowhere Minnesota if he still had Henry by his side. If Henry continued to choose Balthazar, than Balthazar would forever be a winner.  
While many of his supposed victories were deep and well thought out, like the rather personal one he had when he kissed Henry at the altar, some of them, he was unafraid to admit, were remarkably petty.  
“How did you manage to get the Boardwalk?!” Henry exclaimed, looking about ready to flip the table.  
They were sat in their living room across from each other at the coffee table, playing a game of Monopoly. The lights from Los Angeles illuminated the carpet with different colors, but Henry couldn’t currently appreciate the simple beauty, seeing as he was seething.  
“How did _you_ manage to land on it four times in a row with a hotel?” Balthazar countered. Henry huffed, frustrated, putting his forehead onto the table in what Balthazar recognized as a calming gesture.  
“Why are you so good at this game?” He groaned, slightly muffled by the wood of the table.  
“I genuinely don’t know, Henry. But you’d best figure it out so that you can win.” Balthazar teased. However, when Henry looked up, he had a determined look on his face.  
“I will. I am _going_ to beat you, Balthazar Milton. Mark my words.” Henry vowed, more seriously than the ones he said at his wedding.  
“Of course you will, darling.” Balthazar made his voice as condescending as possible. Henry was clearly attempting to look angry, but an amused smile broke out on his face.  
“You’re an ass.” Henry said, fondly.  
“With a great ass.” Balthazar joked.  
“I can’t dispute that.” Henry teased back. Sometimes, Balthazar could bring that out in him. He lived for those moments, more than any other.  
“Well, we could play poker, but I doubt you’re very good at that, you don’t strike me as the gambling type.” Balthazar teased. Henry raised an eyebrow, and Balthazar could sense a sudden change in his husband.  
“Really, now? While it’s true, I don’t gamble, cards just have a way of… _obeying_ me.” Henry countered.  
“You’re on, Winchester.”

 

Getting Henry to go out to a bar, no matter how classy it was, was a feat in and of itself. One Balthazar had accomplished several times, he might add. Rather, he was _smug_ to add. Granted, Henry was only sipping on a whiskey at the end of the bar, putting off an _aura_ , but still, he was out amongst the people.  
Balthazar was returning to Henry from the bathroom when he spotted something that nearly made him burst out laughing. A woman was inching awfully close to Henry, who was clearly uncomfortable with the contact.  
Balthazar would swoop in and save him in a moment, but watching it play out was too tempting.  
“So…what do you like to do for fun?” The woman asked, batting her eyes.   
“Um, I like chess?” It raised upwards in a question and Balthazar felt his heart swell. His poor awkward dear.  
“Well, maybe you could capture me, tonight.” The woman offered. Henry turned a bright shade of red, and Balthazar knew it was time to step in.  
“I’m sorry, miss, but I’m afraid he’s already spoken for.” Balthazar interjected. Henry gave a relieved smile. Sometimes, the man was more confident and self-assured than even Balthazar, other times, he had the social skills of a pelican.  
The woman gave Balthazar a nasty look, but he gave her a condescending smile in return.   
“Darling, I must admit, seeing you at a bar is an odd sight. Would you like to leave?” Balthazar offered. Henry slid off his stool without a word.  
As they began walking out, Balthazar slung his arm over Henry’s shoulders, glanced over his back, and winked at the jilted woman. Maybe he was bragging a _little_. But when you were married to a man like Henry Winchester, you had the right to be a little smug.  
“My hero.” Henry mumbled, teasingly.   
“My love, in all your confidence and handsomeness, would you have been able to free yourself from that situation?”  
“Probably not.”  
Balthazar laughed.

 

Balthazar had actually done it. He still couldn’t quite believe it. _How_ was he able to pull something like this off? It still baffled him how he’d done this, but there it was, dangling from his hand. His very own Oscar.  
He and Henry, both, were a little bit tipsy. The party had had _very_ good champagne.  
Henry was fumbling with the keys to their apartment, and Balthazar was resisting the urge to start kissing his neck then and there. He could at least wait until they got inside. He did have a small margin of self control.  
The uncooperative door finally opened and Henry and Balthazar barreled through it, giggling to each other. Balthazar only just remembered to shut it behind them. They somehow stumbled over to the couch and collapsed together.  
Balthazar turned his head to find that Henry was already staring at him.   
“Hey. You won.” Henry murmured. Balthazar stared at him for a long moment before smiling.  
“I did. I won so much.”   
And Balthazar inched closer. He kissed his miraculous husband.  
Balthazar couldn’t predict the future, but it was a rather safe bet to say he’d thus far won at life.


	4. House of Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry is still needed in the world. And Balthazar is the only one who can bring him back.

Balthazar often found himself staring at the door. Whether the room was currently occupied or unoccupied, Balthazar still found himself at the door, hand just hovering over the knob.  
What made him so paralyzed? The person inside had known him for so long. It would be so easy just to step inside. But for some reason, he couldn’t. Because it wasn’t _real._  
The beautiful illusion wasn’t real. And Balthazar would trade beautiful perfection for grim reality. He would take sorrow and heartbreak and pain because that would make everything worth it. But if it was a perfect world…what would be the point?  
And that was why Balthazar needed to enter the room. The illusion needed to be shattered. Henry Winchester’s life on Earth wasn’t done, not just yet. He still had to look after his grandsons.  
Time when you were an angel was a strange thing. Technically, Henry hadn’t died yet. It was the year 2011, Henry died in 2013. But to Balthazar, it was all relative. It was complicated to think about, that’s why Balthazar didn’t. He just knew he needed to get Henry out.  
Finally, Balthazar took a deep breath, and pushed the door open.  
As soon as he was inside the room, the door shut behind him. Balthazar knew that would happen, and had prepared for it. What he _hadn’t_ prepared for was the inside.  
It was a rainy day, one forever committed into Balthazar’s memory. He should never like to forget it. And he was forcibly being reminded of it.  
He was standing in the middle of the rain, but none of it hit him. Because it was a mere memory. It had no affect on living souls. Balthazar would’ve been worried if this version of him _was_ getting wet.  
Henry stood in the middle of the rain, in all his glory. Irritation flared up in Balthazar. Where was his hat or coat? Why was he just out in a button-up shirt? Had he gone mad?  
Before Balthazar could voice his irritation at past Henry, someone else did it for him.  
“Henry, darling, you know I love that shirt, but I have to ask _why_ you’re out here in nothing but?” It was a memory. The memory of Balthazar, standing there, shouting over the rain.  
Henry smiled at the past version. His hair was beginning to curl at the ends, a feature Balthazar had always thought was endearing.  
“I took your suggestion! I’m having fun!”  
“Just standing in the rain without a coat?” Past Balthazar demanded. He, unlike the current one, was getting quite soaked.  
“Yes! Because I knew that’d get you here!”  
“Whatever happened to calling?”  
But the past Balthazar was smiling, fond frustration and amusement battling on his face, a battle Balthazar remembered all too well.  
“Henry Winchester, you are a surprising idiot.” Past Balthazar finally settled on. Henry’s grin grew wider and he enveloped the past version in an embrace.  
“I’m your idiot.”  
Balthazar had been watching too long. He’d lost his opportunity to save Henry from this memory. How did he know? Well, the rainy street below gave way, and Balthazar fell through, memory fading away.  
This was what Balthazar anticipated. Heaven had failsafes built in, which were the most annoying thing, in Balthazar’s opinion. If they sensed a presence trying to get a soul out of complacency, it would rebel against the presence.  
Balthazar didn’t experience the sensation of falling like humans did. But he still felt the pull. He felt his wings instinctively wrap around him to break his fall. But there was no need.  
Balthazar landed in a soft armchair, a crackling fire near his face. He took stock of the situation, trying to figure out where he was. He’d never seen this place, or this memory, before.  
It was a spacey lounge area with two armchairs facing the fire. A large window to the side of the adjacent armchair revealed snow falling in droves outside. It was a cozy place, all in warm colors.  
Books were strewn about, allowing Balthazar at least _one_ deduction. This was Henry’s house. But what was it?  
In the next armchair was Henry, himself. Balthazar was startled that he hadn’t noticed, but began watching. Henry was cradling something in his arms. A baby.  
Suddenly, Balthazar knew exactly what this was. He’d known this would happen since he fell in love with a Winchester. Balthazar had somehow been pushed out of the picture to allow for the birth of John Winchester. But Henry seemed to be alright, at least. Balthazar wasn’t sure if that was better or worse than him being heartbroken.  
Henry, though completely silent, was saying all he needed to by the expression on his face. He loved his son more than anything in the world, that much was clear. And it warmed Balthazar’s heart to see. He just wished, in the darkest part of his mind, that he could’ve been there, in that memory. Maybe things would’ve gone differently.  
And that was exactly why he hadn’t been there, for whatever reason.  
Balthazar finally remembered himself. He needed to get Henry out of the memories, not just watch him from the sidelines. But as soon as he began to reach out for Henry, the armchair tipped over and he slid off it, into the next memory.  
This time, Balthazar was on his feet. He was in a diner bustling with patrons. He’d expected one or two of these. What he hadn’t expected was it to be a modern diner.  
People were using cell phones, wearing clothes not seen in the fifties, driving cars outside from the 21st century. And at a table near the window, Henry sat with Sam and Dean, his grandsons. The younger Winchesters looked as surly as ever while Henry spoke. But the words were indiscernible to Balthazar, as though he was hearing them through water.  
The entire building gave way, and Balthazar placed his internal bets on what it would be next.  
A baseball game, with Henry and a young John watching, attentively. No, wait, the stands collapsed. Balthazar was going through these too quickly. Henry’s Heaven was attempting to reject him.  
The bedroom. Another version of Balthazar was in it. Frankly, Balthazar was disappointed that one disappeared so quickly, some part of him wanted to see how he’d improved.  
Finally, _finally_ , after falling through memory after memory, Balthazar stopped. And it was on a scene that nearly broke his heart with how very Henry it was.  
Henry was outside, reading on a porch swing, glasses perched on his nose. The book was by Oscar Wilde. Balthazar recognized this day. It would be the last day he ever saw Henry. The past version of him would arrive at any minute. Which meant Balthazar only had a few moments.  
“Henry!” Balthazar called, sharply, startling Henry out of his book. But when he saw who’d called his name, the most brilliant smile spread over his face. If Balthazar had forgotten how much he loved that smile, he was instantly reminded.  
“Hello, Balthazar!” Henry greeted, cheerfully. “What brings you here on this fine day?”  
Balthazar suddenly didn’t want to break Henry out. He wanted to leave the man he loved in peace, he deserved that peace. But Balthazar stayed determined. He knew what needed to be done.  
Balthazar sat beside Henry on the porch swing.  
“Oh, my darling.” Balthazar stroked Henry’s cheek, leading Henry to gain a worried expression. “Forgive me for doing this. You’re…no longer amongst the living.”  
“What? Of course I am! Are you okay, Balt?” Henry asked, concernedly.  
“You died in the year 2013 after meeting your grandsons for the first time. Don’t you remember?” Balthazar prompted. Henry looked like he was about to protest, but then…recognition stirred in his eyes. He looked at his knees, pondering.  
“Sam and Dean…we defeated Abaddon…” Henry suddenly looked back up. “This was the last day I saw you. Why am I here?”  
“You’re in Heaven, reliving your best memories. I’ve seen most of them, today. And I suppose this is one of them.” Balthazar gestured to the area.  
“Of course it is. You were my life’s best part.” Henry said. “Why are you here, now?”  
“I fear, love, that your work on Earth is not yet done. Your grandsons, no matter how much they insist otherwise, need you.” Balthazar finally said it. Henry nodded, determinedly.  
“Alright. For my grandsons.” Henry agreed. It was exactly like the man Balthazar loved.  
Henry and Balthazar stood in tandem.  
“Just walk through that door when you’re ready to go.” Balthazar gestured to the front door of the house, and gave Henry’s hand a squeeze before walking towards the door, himself.  
“Wait, Balthazar?” Henry called. Balthazar turned. “Why didn’t you come back? After today.” Henry asked, voice breaking. Balthazar had hurt the man he loved, and it wasn’t even his fault.  
“Your grandsons are part of a pre-ordained set of events. They needed to be born. And my staying with you was an interference in the plan. I didn’t much care, but my siblings…did. Michael barred me from your timeline, and your son’s. I was unable to even reach you. But he allowed me to say goodbye. And this was the day I chose.” Balthazar explained. There was a certain form of relief that came with finally telling Henry the truth.  
“And in 2013, when I travelled through time? When Sam and Dean were already fully grown?”  
Balthazar grimaced. “I don’t know. But the only thing that would prevent me from seeing you in a linear timeline is my death.” Balthazar said. Henry looked like he had been crushed. Balthazar couldn’t stand the look, and grabbed Henry, drawing him into a kiss.  
He didn’t allow it to last for long. He had to go, soon. He was going to lie to Castiel, after all. But before he left, he gave Henry likely the last words he’d ever say to him.  
“I love you, my dearest.”  
And with that, Balthazar left the memory, and Heaven altogether.

 

After four years of research, Henry finally had it. It had been a long and arduous process, going through book after book, sentence after sentence, but he didn’t regret it. He’d even convinced his grandsons to help him. Though, Castiel hadn’t taken much persuasion, all things considered.  
Henry finally had the means to return the favor.  
He was going to get Balthazar back.


	5. Impossible Year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Balthazar is bitterly having a drink while celebrators outside ring in the New Year. He doesn't expect to find an Adonis doing the same.

The bar beside Times Square was surprisingly empty. Then again, on New Year’s, everyone would be outside, waiting for the great ball to drop to ring in the new year. They would stand next to the one they loved, waiting to kiss them at the stroke of midnight. How Balthazar hated them.  
Balthazar knocked back his third brandy of the night and traced its path down his throat. How else was he going to occupy his time on this silly, stupid night? Standing outside in the freezing cold, alone, being bitter at all the happy couples that simply didn’t deserve it?  
The other patrons of the bar were two couples, one sitting in tense silent, the other climbing all over each other, and a lone man across the bar. The man intrigued Balthazar to no end, with his big beautiful eyes, his thick dark hair, the way his lips curved around his glass of whiskey, the unbelievably sexy scruff on his cheeks. He was Balthazar’s type.   
And more than that, he looked as surly as Balthazar felt. This man felt like shit, and his face betrayed that. Balthazar couldn’t stop himself from asking a question to the ever so intriguing man.  
“What was it? A woman?” Balthazar called. The man jolted and looked up at Balthazar, eyes wide with surprise. It was adorable.  
“Pardon?” He sputtered.  
“The one who put that sour look on your face. Was it a woman?” Balthazar repeated. The man smiled, bitterly.  
“A man, actually. And it wasn’t just him.” He replied, and _oh_ , his voice was better than any sex Balthazar had ever had. The man lifted his glass back up to his lips and stared into the amber depths. “It’s been one hell of a year.” With that, he tipped the remaining liquid into his mouth. Balthazar watched his Adam’s apple bob. The man set the glass back down on the bar and signaled for another.  
Balthazar grabbed his own drink and moved to sit beside the man.   
“Tell me about it.” Balthazar agreed. “I’ll drink to bad years.” The man’s face softened a bit.  
“I’m Henry.” The man said. His name fit so well. _Henry._  
“Balthazar.” Balthazar introduced. He clinked his glass to Henry’s and took a sip. “So, show me yours and I’ll show you mine.” Henry let out a surprised laugh, and Balthazar was utterly delighted to hear the sound.  
“The year started fine. Then my grandfather died.” Henry began.  
“I’m so sorry.” Balthazar murmured. Henry shrugged.  
“It’s alright. He went peacefully. But my grandmother and my mother were distraught. And I was, too. I had a falling out with my mom and we didn’t even speak for several months. In that time, I had a high school reunion, in which I saw that everyone was happily married or in relationships or having successful careers. I’m not too bothered by my life, but I’d be wrong to say I didn’t want that. I’m an unsuccessful writer who hasn’t had a functional relationship in several years. The last one was earlier this year with one of the nicest men I’ve ever met. But three months ago, I ended up pushing him away.”  
“How did you do that?” Balthazar asked, gently.  
“The romantic in me is overly concerned about finding ‘the one’. And I didn’t view him as the one, unfortunately.” Henry lifted his glass. “I’ll never forget his face when I told him. I broke his heart. It…for lack of a better word, it sucked.”  
“I’m no stranger to that feeling.” Balthazar added.  
“Break a lot of hearts, do you?”  
“Unfortunately.” Balthazar tried to count how many hearts he’d broken over the years. And some part of him wanted to run far, _far_ away from Henry for fear of breaking his heart, too. But some part of him wanted this to be different.  
“I think I’ve bared enough of my soul. Tell me about your year.” Henry invited, angling his body to fully face Balthazar. Balthazar could see a toned chest beneath the layers of clothing Henry wore. Balthazar wanted to reach out and touch him.  
“I’m the oldest of six. Two of my younger brothers, fraternal twins, had a royal falling out. Haven’t spoken to each other since August. Because of that, my brother, Gabriel, ran away. Granted, he’s an adult, so he can do that, but we worry about him. My sister, who’s adopted, got put in the hospital. For being black, and for being Rachel when she was born Raphael. My other brother, Cas…he and his husband had an adoption sealed. But the woman they were adopting from had a miscarriage.” Balthazar took a sip of his own drink at the reminder. The look on his little brother’s face when he learned he wouldn’t be having that child was devastating.  
“I’m sorry.” Henry mumbled.   
“It’s alright. Things have a way of working themselves out. And anyway, the year can’t have been _all_ bad. In every storm, there’s an eye.” Balthazar said. “Tell me one good thing that happened this year.”  
Henry considered for a moment, brow furrowing, before his face lightened.  
“My half-brother got married. Never seen a man so happy.” Henry was delighted as he spoke, clearly filled with fond memories. Balthazar wanted to take a picture of him, he looked so…perfect. The soft lighting of the bar casted shadows on his face, but allowed his eyes to twinkle. Balthazar wondered if it showed on his face how enamored he was.  
He’d never met Henry before, but there was something indescribable about him that attracted Balthazar, in ways both primal and soft. As much as he wanted his hands to roam Henry’s body, he also wanted to hold him gently in his arms and never let go. It was a dichotomy that Balthazar had never experienced before, but wanted to continue feeling.  
Henry’s eyes glanced over Balthazar, looking nearly embarrassed, but highly appreciative. “What about you?” Henry asked, staring at Balthazar’s arms. “What’s your bright spot?”  
“Other than this very meeting?” Balthazar teased, making Henry’s cheeks turn pink. “I suppose…I suppose it was meeting my now best friend, Meg. She’s simply a delight, and has helped me through a lot.”  
“I’m glad you have that.” Henry said, a sincerity in his voice nearly that nearly made Balthazar cry.  
The time was 11:59, and Balthazar made a quick decision.  
“Henry, I have an idea.” Balthazar said.  
“Mm?”  
“It’s almost midnight, and we’re alone. I suggest we kiss each other.” Balthazar proposed. Henry’s face rapidly heated up, eyes going wide, looking for all the world like a deer in headlights.  
“Y-You would want that?” Henry spluttered.  
“Of course I would. By far, Henry, you are the most attractive man I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting.” Balthazar confessed, earnestly.  
“I could say the same about you.” Henry muttered, clearly trying to be quiet, but failing.  
“You don’t have to agree. But if you do agree, and don’t like the kiss, we can part ways and never see each other again. If you _do_ like it, then I think I’ll have to ask you for dinner.”   
“Really? Even after I told you that story about my ex?” Henry asked, incredulously.  
“Yes. I can tell you’re a kind and earnest man, one I only want to learn more about. If you’ll let me.” Balthazar ended the sentence with a wry smile.  
Henry pondered for a long moment, and Balthazar counted the seconds. And then, he smiled, brilliantly.  
“I don’t see any downsides to kissing a pretty boy on New Year’s.” Henry agreed.  
 _10…_  
Balthazar smiled back at him, having dropped his last one in anticipation. He had hoped Henry would agree. Even if they never spoke again, he wanted to know what it would be like.  
 _9…_  
Henry’s eyes were fixated on Balthazar’s face, seemingly scanning every detail. Balthazar wondered what he found in those details.  
 _8…_  
The chanting of the crowd outside barely registered in Balthazar’s brain as he studied every part of Henry he’d like to kiss. The Adam’s apple was calling his name.  
 _7…_  
Whether consciously or not, Henry maneuvered closer. Balthazar could smell his cologne, and wanted to just grab him then and there.  
 _6…_  
The other people in the bar, even the bartender, were chanting now. Balthazar remained silent, not wanting to even risk losing the tension between himself and Henry.  
 _5…_  
Henry finally released his grip on the empty whiskey glass and instead moved to lightly touch Balthazar’s hand. Shivers went up and down Balthazar’s spine.  
 _4…_  
Balthazar was more impatient than he’d ever been. Why couldn’t it just be midnight?  
 _3…_  
Henry was now mouthing the numbers. The curve of his lips was too appealing. Honestly, Balthazar had never met a man whose existence was so entirely unfair to the rest of his gender.  
 _2…_  
Balthazar’s heart was beating a mile a minute. Almost, almost, almost.  
 _1…_  
They met in the middle, both entirely too eager to share a kiss.   
Henry’s mouth was unbelievably soft, and had the lingering taste of whiskey, both of which could get Balthazar entirely intoxicated. Henry relaxed into the kiss, surprising, considering how stiff he’d been moments ago.   
Henry reached across the divide between their stools and wrapped his arms around Balthazar’s waist. Balthazar braced his hands against Henry’s chest, and it felt _exactly_ how he anticipated it to feel. Warm, firm, muscles moving with every fidget…he could feel Henry’s elevated heart rate, and was pleased to note he was having the same effect on him that Henry was having on Balthazar.  
Balthazar broke away, slowly opening his eyes to meet Henry’s. He smiled.  
“Happy New Year, Henry.” Balthazar breathed.  
“Oh, yes, I think it will be.” Henry agreed. He pulled Balthazar back in for another kiss.  
Maybe the new year wouldn’t be so bad, after all.


End file.
